Straight Man Fixes Shower for Trans Beauty

Xavier, twenty-eight, stood in the hallway with his toolbox and a work order creased in his pocket. A stuck shower valve. An easy afternoon job. He knocked twice, and the door opened on a woman who knocked the breath clean out of him.

Lucia was twenty-six, and the short silk robe she wore was losing the fight. Pale blue, belt loose, the fabric gaped over full heavy breasts and clung to the unmistakable bulge of her cock. Damp dark hair framed a painted mouth and bright, lined eyes. She looked him over like she already liked the view.

"You're the handyman," she said, voice low and warm. "Xavier. Come in. That shower has been driving me crazy."

"That's me." He stepped into citrus soap and warm skin. He tried to keep his eyes on the hall and failed when she turned. Silk shifted. The thick shape of her cock pressed clear against the thin material. Heat climbed his neck. He had always called himself straight. That did not stop his pulse from kicking hard.

She led him to the bathroom, hips swaying, the robe riding her thighs. Steam still fogged the mirror. She leaned in the doorway while he set the toolbox on the tile and crouched by the valves, wrench in hand, jeans pulling across his ass.

"Take your time," she said. "I like watching a man work with his hands."

He glanced up. One breast had slipped free of the silk, nipple tight, and her cock rested heavy against her hip. His mouth went dry. She did not cover herself. She watched his face, a small smile at her lips, and the tension in the small room thickened until he could feel it on his skin like humidity.

"Valve's sticking," he managed. "I'll get it."

"Good." She stayed in the frame, eyes on his arms, on the flex of his shoulders. "I'll be right here. Don't rush on my account. I want it done right."

He shut the water off at the main and climbed into the stall. Glass was warm. Condensation beaded and ran. He was half inside the enclosure, crouched over the pipes, when he heard the soft slide of silk hitting the bath mat.

Lucia stood naked in the bathroom light. Her cock was already thickening, heavy between her thighs, the head peeking from smooth skin. Her breasts were full, nipples dark and tight. She did not ask if she could look. She stepped into the stall behind him, close enough that he felt the heat of her body, and wrapped her hand around herself. She stroked slowly, openly. The slick sound of skin on skin filled the tiled space.

Xavier turned his head. Their eyes locked. A last drip from the showerhead hit his shoulder. Her fist moved in a lazy rhythm, the head of her cock flushing darker, shining at the tip.

"Has a straight man like you ever wondered," she asked, voice rough with want, "what it would feel like to be touched by a woman like me?"

His wrench lowered. His cock strained against his jeans, no hiding it. He swallowed, throat tight, and told her the truth. "I'm wondering right now. It's turning me on. I want it."

"Then say yes. Out loud. I don't do maybe."

"Yes."

She hauled him up by the front of his shirt and kissed him, hungry and open-mouthed, tongue sliding against his. He kissed her back just as hard. His hands roamed her waist, the ripe curve of her ass, the heavy swell of her breasts. She shoved his work shirt up and off, palmed his chest, then squeezed his cock through the denim until he groaned into her mouth. He found her cock, hot and rigid in his fist, and stroked her the way she had been stroking herself, clumsy and eager, thumb smearing the wet at the tip. She bit his lower lip and laughed, breathless, hips pushing into his grip.

"God, your hands," she said. "Rough. I like that."

She shoved his jeans open and got her fingers around him, skin to skin, pumping slow while she kissed his throat. He cursed, forehead against hers, and palmed her ass with both hands, spreading her, feeling how she shivered when his fingers slipped between. She ground her cock against his stomach, breasts crushed to his chest, nipples dragging. Every breath came hotter. The stall felt too small for how badly he wanted her.

"Shower's not the only thing that needs fixing," she murmured against his mouth. "Get those pants off. I want all of you. And I want to hear you ask for it."

He kicked his boots aside, shoved jeans and briefs down, and stepped out of them. Naked, he pressed against her under the drip of the faucet, cock to cock, the heat of her unbelievable. She reached past him and twisted the handle. Warm water burst over both of them, slicking skin, running in sheets down her cock and his, pooling at their feet.

"Still yes?" she asked, hand on his jaw, thumb at his lip.

"Still yes. Don't stop. Touch me. Use me. I want your cock."

She smiled like she had been waiting all afternoon to hear a straight man say it.

Water hammered Xavier's shoulders as he dropped to his knees on the wet tile. Lucia's cock stood thick and flushed in front of his face, bouncing with her pulse, the head glossy. He had never put his mouth on a cock in his life. He wanted this one. He opened and took her in, sloppy from the first inch, tongue flat, lips stretched. Salt and skin and shower water. He moaned around her and sucked harder, cheeks hollowing, spit spilling down his chin and mixing with the spray.

"Fuck, look at you," Lucia said, one hand in his wet hair, the other braced on the glass. "Straight boy on his knees with my cock in his mouth. That's it. Sloppier. Get it messy. I want to hear it."

He did. He bobbed, gagging a little when she nudged deeper, then relaxed his throat and took more. Spit strung from his lip to her shaft. He stroked what he could not swallow and sucked the head like he was starving for it, tongue working the underside, eyes up on her face. She praised him in a wrecked voice, hips rolling, breasts swaying above him, water streaming between them.

"Good boy. Such a hungry mouth. You were made for this and you didn't even know." She pulled him off with a wet pop, cock shining with his spit, and turned him. "Hands on the wall. Bend over. I want that tight ass."

"Yes," he said, already bracing, back arched, ass pushed out under the spray. "Fuck me. I want it."

She slicked herself with a bottle from the shelf, fingers generous, then pressed two wet digits into him. He gasped, clenched, then pushed back, opening for her. She worked him until he was groaning, cock dripping, then lined up and sank in with one long, deep stroke. The stretch burned sweet. He cried out, forehead to tile, and she held there, buried to the hilt, letting him feel every inch.

"Breathe," she said, kissing his shoulder. "You can take me. You want to."

"I can. Move. Please."

She fucked him hard. Long strokes, pulling almost out, then driving back in until her hips slapped his ass and the water jumped off their skin. Each thrust knocked a raw sound out of him. She reached around and jerked his cock in time, fist tight, thumb over the head, while her own cock dragged over the spot that made his knees buckle. He begged without shame. Deeper. Harder. Don't stop. She gave it to him, breasts pressed to his back, mouth at his ear, telling him what a perfect hole he was, how pretty he looked getting split open by a woman who had watched him fix her pipes.

She pulled out before either of them finished, cock throbbing, both of them shaking. "Not yet," she said, turning off the water. "I want you somewhere I can show you off. Get dressed. There's a club. Adults only. My kind of night. You in?"

"I'm in," he said, voice hoarse, ass still clenching around the ghost of her. "I want more."

They dressed fast, still wet at the edges, and she drove them across town with her hand on his thigh, squeezing whenever the light went red. The club was dim, bass-heavy, packed with adults in glitter and leather under pulsing violet light. No one looked underage. No one looked surprised to see a trans woman walk in with a flushed handyman. Lucia's friend Rebecca, twenty-seven, tall in a black dress and gold hoops, met them at a corner booth and grinned like she already knew.

"This the straight one?" Rebecca asked, eyes dragging over Xavier's mouth, still swollen.

"Was," Lucia said, and kissed him hard enough that nearby tables whooped. "Watch if you want. He said yes to all of it."

"I did," Xavier said, looking Rebecca in the eye so there was no mistake. "I want her. I want this."

Rebecca slid into the booth across from them, drink untouched in her hand, and settled in to watch. Lucia bent over the table in the low light, dress hiked, no panties, ass round and bare, cock hanging heavy between her thighs. Xavier spit in his palm, slicked his cock, and pressed into her. She was tight and hot and perfect. He groaned and sank deep, hands gripping her hips, and started to pound.

The booth hid most of them. It did not hide the sound. Wet slaps. Lucia's moan. Xavier's rough breath as he fucked her ass in long, driving strokes, pulling her back onto him, watching his cock disappear. Rebecca watched with her lip caught in her teeth, one hand resting on her own thigh, not touching them, just witnessing. Lucia pushed back to meet every thrust, talking filth over her shoulder.

"Harder. Use that straight cock. Wreck me. Let her see what you do to a woman like me."

He did. He bent over her, chest to her back, and hammered until the table rocked and her cock slapped her stomach, leaking onto the vinyl. She clenched around him and laughed, wild and bright, then straightened and turned the tables before he could finish.

She spun him, shoved his pants down again, and pinned him to the wall beside the booth. One of her hands locked his wrist above his head. The other guided her cock back into his ass, still slick, still hungry. He took her in one push and shouted into the bass. She fucked him there in the violet dark, deep and relentless, long strokes that knocked his cock against the wall and made his eyes roll. Rebecca leaned closer, breath uneven, watching Lucia's hips snap, watching Xavier's face come apart.

"Come for me," Lucia ordered, fist flying on his cock while she buried herself again and again. "Right here. While she watches. While I fill you."

He broke. Orgasm tore through him, thick ropes striping the wall and her fingers, his ass clamping down so hard she cursed and drove in to the root. She came with him, pulsing deep, flooding his hole, hips jerking, mouth open against his neck. They shook together through it, mutual and filthy and loud enough that the next booth cheered. She stayed inside him until the last throb faded, then eased out, cum slicking his thighs, both of them wrecked and grinning.

Sweat cooled on their skin under the pulsing club lights. Lucia kissed him deep, tongue slow, tasting the night, one hand still possessively on his ass. Rebecca laughed, soft and delighted, and flagged the bartender.

"Drinks," she said. "On me. You two earned them."

She set the glasses down. Neither of them touched the alcohol. Xavier was still half-hard, Lucia's cum cooling on his skin, and the only thing he wanted was more of her. Lucia smoothed her dress, eyes bright, and tipped her chin toward the door.

"My place," she said. "Round three. I want you on your back this time, legs up, taking every inch while I ride that used hole until you come dry."

"Deal," he said, filthy and sure, lacing his fingers through hers. "I'm going to suck you in the car and then bend over the second we get inside. Fill me again. I want it leaking out of me all night."

They left the club hand in hand, Rebecca's laugh trailing after them, and Xavier leaned in so only Lucia could hear the last of it. "Get that cock back in my ass before we even hit the elevator. I'm not waiting, and I'm not done being your straight fucktoy."